Hush Little Blue Bird
by Valexian rose
Summary: In the beginning, Maximum and her flock weren't the only ones. There were other birds, other species. Some used for different things, all used like tested or in development weapons. This is the story of a blue jay, of a small bird girl who escaped against all odds. Rated M for violence and language.
1. Breakfast Time

January 12; 5:15 - Breakfast Time-

 _Whoosh-shick_ was the sound of the magnetic pressured door sliding up into the building, disappearing into darkness up before slamming back down with a hiss and click in place. The click was a lock. It was a door that weighed a ton and was wired through and through the 4 inch metal door, for detonation upon destruction. There were sensors in the walls and frame, and if the camera didn't see you running for it, the sensors would. The door would drop like a guillotine and sever a head without thought, as it was a machine, a death trap, a lie. She had seen it happen before. That was if anyone was still alive enough to attempt escape, to run for it on weak legs, if whatever walked through the door in the first place didn't kill it first.

The girl smiled, cheeks blushing and lips peeling back to reveal jagged sharp teeth, glinting in the pale white light by the camera. The light didn't reach past four cages, and hardly towered over three stacked, even though they were dog kennels. Her fingers slipped through the small holes and gripped the black painted metal, rattling it a bit and beginning to laugh. Another girl watched with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows of frustration and annoyance as a man walked by, boots clicking heavily. The first was silenced when the steel toed black boots paused and pivoted at her cage, squeaking against the tile.

The first girl hollered and screamed with hysterical laughter, teeth chattering like bones, her gravelly voice loud. The man kicked the cage at first, growling menacingly before yelling and smashing the lock, the door was open in a second and an electric rod buzzed in his hand. The first screamed again, this time she flailed in pain, 500 volts of electricity surged through her body. Snapping and ripping the air, growling against her skin as she convulsed. The second winced, cringing her gaze away from the horrific scene and around the dim and dank room. Inhuman and human eyes alike glinted back at her, at the girl who screamed, watching in pure terror and perhaps glee, those that were able to, anyway. Hands, claws, talons, fins, and even scaled hands gripped and scraped against the bars of their cage, getting excited, rattling them and hissing, all of them watching.

It was a test. They wanted to see if the first would survive. The second turned her head back over, eyes locking onto the bewitching horror before her, sparks flew and flashes lit up the dripping teeth and luminescent eyes of the others. The first struggled, panicking and shoving against the man, he grabbed her arm and twisted it, the bone popping out of place, a sickening snap resounding through the room, her skin breached and blood splattering from her arm. A green fracture. Blood and shiny saliva ran from her lips, down her chin, flying everywhere as she seized, cherry red plasma dripped from her nose, and fell down her neck from her ears in a steady stream. Why wasn't she dead yet?

The laughter continued and tears sprung from her eyes, snot mixing with her blood, her body expelling vital fluids, the man roared, knocking the cage back finger swishing over the volt intensity. Then the was a slight explosion, like a balloon popping and squirting something, a splash and scatter of liquid and the heaving sound of an emptying stomach, followed by a few others. The electrocution stopped, and the first collapsed to her side on her broken bleeding arm, vomit on her chin, chest, and in her light hair. Her skin was blistered, red, seeping puss and blood, cracking open like cooking sausage. Her eyes, wide open, and her chest sunken in. The second could never unsee what she saw, could never remove the missing eye, or the dark empty socket. Blood ran along the dead girl's cheek, bits of flesh and muscle stringing out of her eye socket, veins slapped wet and limp against the side of her head into her hair. Her eye, her left eye had burst, and her heart had followed suit.

Resisting the shock and wave of black that swept over her, the second closed her eyes, trembling and swallowing the bile in her throat. Then she opened her eyes again, looking onward at the man who no longer looked as such. Blood and vomit was splattered on his shirt and pants, some flesh even hung from the speckles and blotches of red. She took in the feral lupine grin that peeled the corners of his lips, his gums a grotesque grey and purple, his teeth bared like an angry dog, fitted with teeth set specifically for ripping out the throats of prey. His nose crinkled to the rancid smell of acidic vomit, and his eyes were the color of gold, the whites were now black, he was satisfied with the kill. They were called Erasers, they were the guard dogs of the School.

The Eraser kicked the door shut with his heavy boot, cracking it against the dead girl's fingers. The second curled into herself, pulling her scraped knees to her chest, fingers gripping shins as she pressed her forehead between them. She didn't know the first, only that she was older than she, and part of a separate experiment. That she sometimes called herself Carol, and talked to the air. The second shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut against the incident, the smell of burnt and cooked flesh spreading through the room, a tangy copper smell just hinting at the back, if she didn't know, she would've assumed the smell came from the belly of a cooked pig, not the hissing and sizzling flesh of a deceased girl. Her stomach rolled, bubbling a growl as it battled with hunger, disgust, nausea and pain.

The door hissed open again, holding open as footsteps rushed in, all of which were uneven and disorganized. There was one woman, that much could be said by the heeled smacks against the bleach white tile, and there were two men with her in dress shoes, scientists no doubt. They only ever rushed in during a death, or for early releases of experiments that had yet to be tested at all. The rest of the persons were Erasers, their boots slamming ferociously to the ground. The girl scooted further away from her cage door, the dripping of blood to metal getting to her. The female scientist squeaked, her voice annoyingly girly and proper, "Oh my, an accident," a man walked forward, his hand checking the tab that held the dead girls information. Then his pen clicked as he took a step back, the scratching of cat claws to a post echoing under his voice as he wrote, "That's it for the Neuropsychology branch," he sighed, "Funding might be cut, this is the 19th one,"

"Oh shut up George," the woman hissed, "It's not like we're running short on subjects," the man silenced himself as the woman pivoted, fabric folding, and a soft click, she had glasses. She huffed, "What happened?"

"Well… it…" The Eraser fumbled, not wanting to take the blame, or the punishment for killing a subject.

"Just tell me how and when it died you idiot!" she yelled, making even the Eraser flinch,

"Electrocution, three minutes straight on 500 volts, then for 30 seconds on double the voltage,"

"Electrocution, hmm," The woman murmured, tapping her nail against something hard. "Get the body on the cart, we'll open it up in the lab, see what it did exactly to it's brain," Erasers scuffled, dragging the crate against the tile, the metal scraping and squeaking against the tile. Her cage was thrown unceremoniously and rather loudly on the metal cart, and then wheeled away. When the other scientists left and the dogs followed, the woman stayed, and the girl could see in the corner of her eye as the scientist spun, her white coat flowing and fluttering. She laughed, "Not even drowning N019 would kill it, and now we know, nothing can withstand electricity," she sighed, her shoe clicking down in the thin puddle of bright blood, her hands placed on her hips she grinned, her crimson lips spreading sickly. She walked around each cage, brushing her nails against the metal, announcing loudly in a sing song tone, "Breakfast! I hope y'all are positively _famished_!"

The girl tried not to grimace, tried not to move too much when her metal pan of a plate was tossed down into her cage, watched her reaching fingers when the can of water dropped afterward. She tried not to think of what she had seen, tried not to picture the bubbling and split flesh of the girl _N019_ as she was called as she bit into a cold nearly uncooked slab of mixed meat. The only other thing to eat was a piece of stale, hard bread, and a can of water. She knew to avoid the liquids though, as to avoid some sickening medicine or drug the Whitecoats were testing, she knew better.


	2. Environmental Training

April 6; 11:00 -Environmental Training-

Thunder boomed, shaking the earth as white flashes ripped through the sky, fracturing it with the weight of terrible lies and publicity stunts of false honesty. The school had nearly been exposed, and they were teetering dangerously and recklessly on the edge of funding and cuts. That was what pushed them to intensive training, less food, more guards, they were getting cautions, and ruthless. It was why she was standing outside, before noon in just her shirt and shorts. Training clothes in a windy cold storm, sheets of freezing rain poured down on her sensitive skin like razors and needles. Her wings took a beating, still folded they soaked up the nearly frozen rain water, the feathers growing heavy, lacking the nutrients to produce oils, to protect not only her wings, but her skin, eyes, and hair. They were robbing her and themselves of efficient data.

Wet feathers were heavy, and it didn't help that she was trembling, soaked to the bone in the dark world, grey clouds blocked the sun in a lighting filled rage, she was to fly through the storm, with wet feathers. Her eyes fell shut, her thin clothes hardly dry and clinging to her dark skin. She knew she had dark skin, the color of the coffee and cream most Whitecoats had, she knew her hair was a ball of frizz, not that she was ever able to see her reflection. She had no idea what she looked like, just these facts, and such was the way of the School. They favored ignorance, liked to play the hands of god. She frowned, furrowing her brows and crossing her arms, pulling her feathered limbs closer.

The building behind her switched on an ugly yellow light, which glowed against the grey wet pavement at her feet, and she knew they were watching her. Seconds later, a shrill sound pierced the air, shredding it like paper worse than the lightning, the speaker was on, and fuzzy. The scientists up in the grey concrete observatory control room all watched her with narrowed eyes and accusing frowns, fingers poised on the ends of pens which clicked with impatience. One man leaned forward, as he ran the experiment, and pressed a white button in the panel, speaking into a black microphone, "How does it feel to be outside again?" He asked her, from the tinted window all six scientists watched as she curled more into herself, refusing to look at them. Hate seared on her skin, creating and icy hot pain in her muscles. The scientist spoke again, after letting his team write down notes, "We have an interesting day today, J3-32. You feel like flying?" What choice did she have? A sneer surfaced on her lips and she shook her wings, water flying everywhere. Could she even fly in this weather? In the wind tunnel a week ago her wings had pushed harder and faster than ever, and she was tired, how was she expected to fly in needle like rain? "Do you have an idea of what we're having you do? I'm sure you've figured it out by now," The speaker spat, J3-32 stepped back a few paces, watching as dim green lights began to flash briefly, lighting up a metal runway. Steam hissed out from under the metal plates in the ground as they began to move, and a tiny beep sounded in her ear.

Her hand flew to her neck, or more so the device around it, as if sharp metal prongs poised at her neck wasn't enough, the device hummed with electricity. This sick game where she'd get shocked if she did something wrong, something short of the perfection the scientists wanted from her. She wasn't a dog going too far from the house, but they were treating her like one. Slowly against her will and to her orders, she crouched into a sprinting position, she could run 100 meters in 7 seconds, faster than a human olympic runner, only because of her genes. Because of the School, this much she knew, because she weighed so little, because she had extra air sacs in her lungs and ribs, because she was designed to be aerodynamic. The platform before her began an incline, like a ramp as soon as a bell chime echoed through the yard.

Erasers watched through the rain as the dark figure stretched out her wings, snapping them as she ran, shuddering her feathers and checking her angles, and then she was beating her soles on the hollow metal, heels slamming down first as she pounded harder, breath coming up short. Then she jumped, out into thin rain ripping air as the platform under her gave and dropped. Arms out in front of her she watched as she dropped, plummeting to the ground, her heavy wings struggling to keep dry, to keep her airborn. She screamed, falling, hands flailing for the platform, grabbing hold and slipping, she spun, nosediving and spiraling to the ground.

The pavement was hard, and cold, like a chair slamming to her back, she fell face first to the ground from 35 feet, screaming out as her bones shattered, grinding and embedding themselves into her muscle, her skin scraping and skidding against the rough ground. Her leg was twisted, and her wrist was sprained, her head was dripping with blood, a scrape and gash across her temple into her hairline. The world was dark, and spots filled her vision, little orbs of green and purple. Then everything flashed white and searing hot rocked through her, body seizing on the ground her wings stilling and falling limp she screamed. Clutching her neck, and the collar that electrocuted her, nails scraping limply at her neck. It stopped, and she collapsed from her knees, her shoulders and wings crying out for medical attention, not that she'd get any. The intercom screeched again, "Get up," he said, and she cringed, her body trembling from the jolt, from the pain of her wounds, of the shock of falling. Terminal speed she knew, she wouldn't reach unless she were high her, but still. "Get Up!" The speaker barked and she crawled slowly to her hands and knees, bleeding out as cold rain poured on her back, on her tired wings.

She sat back on her haunches, on her heels which dug into her pelvic and tailbone. Her hot orange colored track shorts were soaked though, clinging to her legs, her white shirt no better, save for the smeared wet blood on the collar and chest. Her hand reached up, and she looked to her right, hissing at the tender gash which throbbed at her skull. She tried not to cringe when she thought about it, but her eyes caught movement, in the tree dense area next to her. Looking up with wide eyes she shuddered and scrambled on a lame foot to the shelter of the trees, running out of the observatories sight.

Her bare feet screamed out in agony at the sharp dried pine needles beneath her, but also relished in the feeling of soft and nearly warm ground, the sheets of monsoon like rain didn't penetrate the canopy, in fact, water only dripped through the thick branches and leaves, hail only broke through to be destroyed by sturdy tree limbs. A shiver passed through her, and she gingerly folded her wings, looking up at the great abundance of life around her, ironically sitting beside a place of horror and death. Her arm in pain, she walked on sore feet deeper into the dark recesses of the forest. It would have to take 6 or more people fingertips to finger tips to wrap around the base trunk of one of the redwoods.

Her fingertips brushed against the ragged bark, tracing the grooves up and around, hitching her nails. She envied them, going so tall. She couldn't fly higher than 364 feet, her wings weren't built for that, and instead of going by the normal development cycle, the School pumped in too much of her advanced abilities for her to go any higher, her highest speed however in the wind tunnel so far was roughly 72 mph for about 40 minutes, but that was it, then her wings would give. Her eyes closed and she breathed in, pressing her body to the tree in an embrace before she shook her wings free, the feathers spreading out and shuddering, droplets of water fanning out, she ruffled them, letting air tuck into them as she took a few steps back. Wings pounding, beating against the air and nearly touching the ground she lifted, running up by the balls of her feet on the tree, she would lift off, she would. Spinning and dodging branches and leaves she left it to flying, bursting up into the storming sky, forgetting about the hail, about the rain and the booming thunder she flew, higher than the treetops until her wings quivered, then she fell back, stopping, staring at the sky as her collar beeped, they were looking for her. Hovering for a moment with extended primary feathers she narrowed her eyes at the sky, it shimmered. She guessed another 300 feet higher and she would be fried, it was to keep others from escaping, no doubt the barrier stretched like a dome. Narrowing her eyes in anger she huffed, looking at the facility before her.

Then she fell backwards and spun, swirling back into control and diving with bent wings for the canopy, breaking through with minor cuts and plummeting to the ground dangerously, beating her wings she crashed down on the first Eraser she saw, knocking him to the earth, staring at another, fanning her wings before launching herself at the next, shoving them back into a tree. They swiped, reaching for her wings but she pushed off, flying up into the branches, looking down at the ground, she could fly with dry feathers, she could fly with oils, but they didn't know how deeply rooted her determination was, she would get out.


End file.
